Ready, Steady, Burn it.

[Loske Treicolt]

Metellos,​

Stratablock Sixteen​

“That’s the cost for late entry.”

“200 credits seems a little steep.”

“The race is starting in less than an hour, your surcharge is inconvenience.”

Loske pursed her lips, leaning against the counter and frowning at the pale Twi’Lek. There were two bulbous rises above his eyes where eyebrows should have been, and his teeth protruded unnaturally. Especially when he was sneering throughout their interaction.

“You look like you’re coming from a place where you can’t complain, Ms. Sato. I heard you collected winnings on Tatooine’s track.”

The last name was not her own, it was an homage to her father’s racing name. The one he’d used when he’d beat the track on Ahto City before it had been destroyed the first time.

“People will always find a way to complain.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew the discs of payment and crossed it across the countertop. The race keeper grinned greedily, pleased with the fact she didn’t continue to argue.

This had never been part of the plan. She was on a loose scouting mission, checking in on The Core worlds with her “civilian ship” rather than anything issued by The Alliance. To further her story, she was just a speed addict with a swoop bike. The same swoop bike that had been...enhanced by a friend prior to her using it in Tatooine’s swoop races. She’d been victorious there, and she intended to continue that streak.

A verpine came up to the side of the Twi’Lek, meek on approach. By way of introduction, the alien behind the desk gestured loosely between the blonde human and the insectoid. “Ellor will take you, and your vehicle to the start of the track. It’s an honour to host you.”

The verpine allowed the blonde pilot to exit the shop first, mostly because the Twi’Lek signalled for him to hang back a bit. “She doesn’t know about our adjustments.” A scowl crossed his features and the insect nodded, exiting the back door of the shop to meet the Kiffar native outside. “Only our locals get the advantage.”

--​

Track garage​

With the pit crews​

Outfitted in a helmet as the major protection, Loske looked down at the HUD on her bike. She’d manufactured it herself, with some assistance and spoofing up from a certain technologically minded friend. She was reviewing the scans Frank had collected from random security and broadcasting displays he’d managed to slice throughout the arena. It was poorly lit, but from what Loske could surmise from the gathered information she was reviewing was the track started above ground, in the floating cities where the wealthy presided. Drivers would find within five minutes of the race starting, that they would dip dramatically downward, spiralling in blue-lit loops down to the underbelly of Metellos society. Through squatters and aggressors. She assumed those were part of the obstacles.

All seemed...pretty predictable until she heard multiple sounds of separate swoop engines revving. Confusion riddled her face as she hung back on her not yet started bike.

“Frank?” She asked into the communications rigged within her helmet. “I’m hearing more than one bike starting at a time. Reasons why?”

There was a moment of static.

It appears these races have more than one racer on the track per round. There are waves up to three individuals at a time.

Loske frowned. Swoop racing replaced pod racing for the very fact that pitting dangerous drivers against each other was more a bloodsport than adrenaline entertainment. “Cool, so, when do I get to meet our wave? Any meet and greets before the lights go green?”

No data.

Giving way to a sigh, she leaned back on her bike and removed her helmet, grumbling about her disdain for the core worlds.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]​

 

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Swoop racing had never been of particular interest to the Jedi Master.

He watched the crowds jostle about below as the race eased closer to beginning. Cedric stood upon a private parapet that overlooked much of the earliest sections of the race track. It was positioned away from the majority of people, which was exactly why Cedric had opted to pay the hefty price to secure it. From here, he could feel the empyrean's ebbs and flows as intimately as he felt his own lungs drawing breath. It was the perfect locale to begin his task.

Eyes the color of angry storm clouds took in the scene one final time. They watched the heaving masses of intoxicated sentients roaring as they awaited the races to begin. They appreciated the beauty of the vast gold and silver that decorated the tops of the tallest spires in the capital, and drank in the beautiful amber afternoon light that reflected off those buildings to cast the track in a warm orange glow. This was truly a glorious place, though beneath the shiny veneer he knew well that the cancer of corruption grew unmolested. The crime lords had made their home Mettellos, and more than a few had placed several thousand credits on the racers below.

None of this was relevant to the Jedi. He had not come here to sight-see.

A quiet sigh escaped his lips as he drew back his ebony cowl. "This is the place then?"

Cyan mist coalesced where once there had been nothing. Cedric felt the familiar buzz in the back of his skull that occurred when in the presence of the supernatural - by now it was a welcome feeling. The mist congealed slowly until it came into the shape of a man, and then details followed. An old, balding, transparent man stood before the Jedi Master.

"It is. I'm surprised it has changed so little in the better part of a thousand years," Vicarion Grayson mused. Cedric shrugged at his ancestor. "These city worlds reach an end point and stagnate. I've yet to see one that doesn't get too big to manage itself."

"Be that as it may, it does not change the fact that he is here."

"No, it doesn't."

Cedric dropped down to his knees. His eyes fluttered shut as he reached out into the depths of the Great Ocean, his mind touching countless others as he scanned every soul huddled within the masses below. He felt pride, anger, glory, lust, and simple mirth - but no great purpose.

"I don't sense him," Cedric mused, confused.

"You think he might have known we were coming?"

"No, that's impossible, I - wait, I feel someone." A single presence shone far brighter than any other. It was like witnessing a star in super nova against a background of total darkness. Cedric honed in on this source; he felt none of the things he had expected. A few bubbled into his mind: it was a woman with angular features, sharp blue eyes, and a complete lack of a sense of menace to her. This was not the one they were looking for.

Curious, Cedric reached out within the depths of the mind's eyes. Connecting to the thoughts of others had always been his natural talent. Assuming this woman to be a Jedi or something akin to them, he saw no danger in the act. "I wasn't aware there were any other Jedi on Metellos," his words would come like whispers in the back of her skull.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

The overhead screen gave an indication of a countdown. The numbers started around twelve minutes, and decreased from there. Loske supposed when the timer got to about thirty seconds remaining on the track, the amber light at eye level would queue. For now, it was just blinking red.

Frank pumped more information into her HUD about the revised rules: There were two waves of three, a total of six participants. Winners were determined by who could outlast their competitors and get the best time. The two best from each wave would be compared and reviewed via video, and if there was no clear winner to be determined between the champions, there would be a tiebreaker round. Quite atypical to the one rider one course most swoop races were. And much less legal, which meant this was largely uncharted territory and the risk was higher.

The countdown reached the two and a half minute mark, and she placed her helmet back over her head. As she did so, she heard a foreign voice. She cringed, her stomach clenching at the metaphysical touch against her mind. A tickle of nausea tapped into her belly. It was bewildering to her - she heard something, but not with her ears. Or, at least it didn't feel like she'd heard it with her ears.

"Frank, which channel are you using?"

The usual, two-way.

"Has it been accessed by a third party recently?"

I don't believe so.

"Run scanners."

Without question, Frank did as he was requested. There was a tremor of fear in Loske's voice that made him nervous, a sound he didn't detect from her audio projections too frequently. This level of confused fear would also likely be felt by anyone who was attempting to understand or communicate with her.

Two minutes to start.

No reports of attempts to access, nor any successes. We haven't been sliced.

"But I heard someone..."


Loske frowned deeply, and ignited her bike's engines. She could hear others in the garage doing the same, and the lights around her began to turn on. Dim illuminations of her fellow racers started to be revealed and she flicked her gaze left and right to assess the general threats they exhibited. Their bikes were relatively the same size as hers, and didn't look too maliciously outfitted, but there were definite weapons strapped to their torsos. She grimaced and leaned forward into her bike, giving an obnoxious rev of her thrusters.

One minute.

She'd have to worry about the technology glitch with her communications after the race.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Cedric felt nothing but silence and confusion from the supposed Jedi. This in turn led Cedric to a moment of silence and confusion. The stranger's presence within the empyrean was nearly identical to one most would associate with the Jedi Order. The confusion would not have come from a Sith, and Cedric felt no ill intentions from the stranger's heart. That left only one conclusion; there was powerful force sensitive among the racers.

That might complicate things.

The Jedi Master recoiled from the connection a moment or so after he had created it. He had no desire to announce his presence any further to a possible threat, even more so when there was a greater and far more certain threat lurking nearby.

It was then that he felt his quarry.

A single clouded mind stood at the edge of the races. It belonged to a Nikto Cedric had come to know relatively well. The renegade Sith warrior had once served [member="Darth Maliphant"], one of Grayson's greatest rivals, and Maliphant had returned. There was little doubt in Cedric's mind that the return of one of the galaxy's most powerful force users would bring even further chaos to an already beleaguered universe.

The Slave needed to be dealt with before his power base could grow once again, and thus Cedric had taken to hunting one of his old lackeys in hopes that the Nikto might know of his former master's location. Cedric watched from the parapets as the alien prepared his swoop - he would be running in the same race as the force sensitive stranger. Curious, Cedric contented himself to simply watching for the moment. When the time came, he would strike, and he could only hope the stranger wouldn't cause him any trouble in the process.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Playing in our favourite contestant’s helmet. ​

At thirty seconds, the dim lighting in the garage increased beyond just highlighting the other contenders to a regular amount of illumination. Two aliens. One Nikto and one Rodian. Not a great mix. Rodians were known to be hunters, and the only reason Rodians turned to any sort of sport, in Loske’s knowledge, was one that could uptick their kill count. Niktos...she knew less about.

The countdown continued downward, and the closer it got to a screen of zeros, the heightened Loske’s adrenaline became.

She hunched forward, tightening her thighs against the belly of her bike. Her opponents also revved their engines, muscling around for comfort and intimidation. They were in her peripherals, likely also sizing her up as much as she had to them -- though they were at an advantage. Because Loske had been late, she wasn’t as outfitted as they were; the only weapons she had on her were concealed and tucked away within bracers, and a single firearm at her hip. Also, no armour other than a helmet, unlike her fellow contestants.

When the countdown clock hit 00:00:00, everything changed.

The main screen blasted a brilliant emerald, signifying GO! The lights that had temporarily ignited the garage rescinded once more, being replaced with darkness and pulsing sapphire strips.

She shoved her heel downward, throttling forward without hesitation as soon as she’d seen the clock display beltless eights. The other two followed suite, easily matching her speed right out of the gate.

The first obstacle appeared quickly, a laser gate that appeared and disappeared intermittently on one half of the course -- adjacent to an accelerator pad.

“This is why you don’t share the course..” Loske murmured to herself through grit teeth, although Frank could hear through their established channel (and maybe even the mysterious third party, who knew how reliable cybersecurity was).

The pressure was applied pretty quickly, and the Rodian came in hot on Loske’s left side. The top of their bike tilted inward, nosing forward to dip either under, or right into the blonde’s bike. The sound of colliding metal made Loske jut to the right and grimace, leaning over to inspect the damage and releasing her pressure on the throttle and letting the Rodian squeeze ahead. The crowds cheered excitedly -- elbows being thrown enthusiastically in the stands.

She should have known. There were bets on this track. She groaned as the rodian triggered the boost from the accelerator pad, and Loske came in second over it. The power from the pad amplified her regular speeds, hurtling her forward and over a ramp. There was a buoyancy to be felt over the ramp, as the track took a sharp downward turn. As she was beginning to feel it die down, she activated her modified scramjet booster which hungrily gripped onto the remaining juice and amplified it ten fold - but only for about five necessary seconds. She’d keep the rest of the juice for the finish line.

An excited whoop couldn’t help but escape from her mouth as the track’s atmospheric pressure increased against her with her speed. The next upcoming obstacle was at the bottom of this incredible dip -- another laser wall.

A terrible habit took over, and she glanced over her shoulder at the track behind her. The Rodian and the Nikto were butting bikes. Aggressively.

Quickly, she averted her gaze back to the trap upcoming and banked a hard right on the turn, aligning herself with the side of the wall that would not burn her to death. The rodian was not so lucky. It seemed the Nikto behind her had also used an acceleration boost, targeting his opponent with malicious intent. The front of his bike was broad and thick, not conducive for aerodynamics but extremely effective for ramming opponents...which was the purpose it served. With the incredible impact from behind, the rodian could do nothing but slam on the brakes too late and let out an incredibly horrifying sounding bleat as the laser wall sparked and digested the nose of the blue alien’s bike. The rodian managed to save herself, but not without charring her feet first.

“Holy kark.” Loske grimaced, leaning deeper into her bike and focusing forward.

You’ve got to get out of there.

“Only one way.”

There’s about seven more minutes of this track - all you have to do is possum or stay ahead the whole time.

Loske was offended at the idea of playing dead this early in the game.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

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The crowd roared with excitement as one of the contestants lost the front half of her swoop. Cedric peered down below, curious as the Rodian was forced to drop out of the race. It had taken the Nikto all of two minutes to start trying to kill the other contestants.

"Typical Sith," Cedric mumbled to himself, amused. "Now who is this other pilot, let's see..." his fingers swept along the betting terminal that had been installed in the private viewing chamber. The name Miss Sato appeared, along with the face of the pilot. She was a blond woman with angular features and sharp eyes: Cedric guessed her to be in her mid-twenties. This was the one the Force had touched - one worth watching, but not more so than his quarry.

His curiosity sated, Cedric settled down to his knees, and extended his consciousness beyond the physical realm. The world around him transformed into a sea of color and light, and in that world he found the Nikto to be a dark spot amidst the neon. He focused upon it, felt the slackened defenses of the alien's mind, and pressed forward.

The Nikto was too busy trying to murder any other contestants that drew too close to him to notice. Few would have noticed the alien reaching for the blaster hanging from his hip, nor would they have known of his intention to shoot at the blonde before she drew any closer. Cedric kept such inclinations from coming true, instilling doubt in the Nikto's mind to enough of a degree to keep him focused on the race.

A faint smile found its way to Cedric's lips.

Once again, he reached out to the blonde, though this time his words were spoken with purpose. They were naught a whisper, but more akin to an order. "The Nikto means to shoot you. Do not let him."

It was only then that the alien recognized the consciousness that was not his own within his own mind, and quickly banished it. As the swoops rounded a corner, the blaster was once again in his hand, aiming sloppily at the blonde.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

The accelerator pad sent her booming forward again, maintaining her lead. By now, she’d managed to avoid four obstacles - two laser gates, one outburst of steam, and a physical barrier that took up half of the course. They were now winding downwards into the portion of the track that steeply disappeared below the gentry-filled population. It would become groundpounder territory within fifteen seconds.

As the dip levelled out, she felt that pressure at the nape of her neck once more, causing her cheeks to feel fleshy -- the same symptoms one would feel before vomiting.

“The Nikto means to shoot you. Do not let him.”

“Hnngg!” She grimaced, giving way to a shudder that took over her body - as if shaking the ethereal invasion right out of her.

“Frank - we have an intruder again.”

I didn’t hear anything.

“Well I did.”

Want me to run the scans again? He sounded frustrated - instead of suggesting that action was a good idea, the pilot gave way to her curiosities.

“No, keep a mark on the distance between the other racer and I. I want a reverse target lock calculation fed to my HUD. This race for speed is getting a lot more complicated than we intended.”

You got it.

No sooner requested than done - a topographical view, represented in high contrast vector, displayed on her bike’s Heads-Up. It was typical of a typical Target-Aggressor Attack Resolution Software used in simulations -- not near as advanced as the systems of her X-Wing, but the renderings and maths were sufficient for survival. It flashed a red box around the dot that was a representation of her bike, and in that instant she juked to the left and crouched into her ride as the world around them eclipsed in grungy scenery. Grungy scenery and a ruby-red streak of plasma over her right shoulder.

With a huff of surprise, she whipped her head around to look backward and saw the Nikto with his outstretched arm and malicious expression. In addition to his dark presence, there were rummagings in the shadows - loud noises that started to occur from beyond the barriers of the track. Heat sensors were showing up on her display.

“I hope those aren’t gangs..” Loske murmured, reaching to her HUD and pinching out for an overview of the remainder of the track. They were supposed to be under the floating city for two klicks, and then back above ground.

A lot could happen in that time.

Her HUD flashed red again, and she veered back to the right, narrowly avoiding an obstacle and a blaster. She couldn’t keep swerving like this with the layout ahead plotted with interferences - she’d have to make the choice of sacrificing speed for safety. And soon. The HUD indicated the glowing dot that was the Sith was advancing on her rapidly, and within a handful of seconds he was parallel. Now both her speed and her safety were threatened.

With his arm out to make another shot at her, she pressed herself into the handles of her bike and tilted it aggressively toward him, knocking against the oppressing bike. The contact made was indicated by a splash of sparks. She was now physically too close to his armpit to fear the outstretch of the blaster barrel. With a flash of her hand, concealed razors evidenced over her knuckles and she jut it out toward the torso of the alien. He maneuvered efficiently, and she only struck his hip with little damage before having to right herself on her bike again and give herself more distance.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 0128]

"Karking schutta!" The Nikto roared as the razors dug through the leather of his pants and ripped apart the skin beneath. The flash of pain was intense, but he knew his body well enough to understand that it was nothing more than an irratable flesh wound.

A string of curses spilled from the alien's lips as he veered off to get his bearings. He hadn't expected the human woman to know his intentions; perhaps he had simply been too obvious in his maneuvering. It was of no relevance. He would win this race one way or another, and the fortunes that came with that victory would catapault him into the upper echelons of society. From there, he could use his resources and his force powers to establish himself within the government. The Nikto, Agraush as he called himself, was well on the way to being the lord of his own ecunemopolis.

Agraush's reptiliain eyes narrowed as he caught sight of movement in his periphery. A large black speeder pulled out from one of the nearby skyways, it was far slower than the swoops, but fast enough to keep up for a minute or so. What drew his attention was the laser cannon that had been hastily strapped to the front of the speeder, and the Twi'lek manning it. Agraush exchanged a nod with the Twi'lek, and the Twi'lek nodded back.

A second later, a stream of ionic blasts thundered out from the cannon, smashing into two of the nearby swoops. The ionic blasts tore through their vessels and rendered their internal systems obsolete. Agraush heard their screams as each swoop careened off into the the many undercity shops and residential homes on either side of the track. Two resounding booms followed their impact, and the Nikto smiled.

He had been wise to hire the gangers. With a gesture of his hand, Agraush indicated the blond woman that had cut him off earlier. She was next.

"Try that again ya schutta!" He roared as the gangers angled their slower speeder to get a shot on Loske; they would likely have an opening in mere seconds.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Unbe-karking-lievable." Loske murmured, her attention having been drawn by the resounding noise. She was watching over her shoulder as she balanced her bike and pressed forward. Once the cannon had met its target, she looked straightforward again. Didn't have to be a mathematician to math out the odds and trajectory that she was likely slated for next.

She stole a glance downward to her navicomputer, vectorized cubes emphasizing that they'd be breaking out of the underbelly soon and back into the clouds where the crowds were. If that reptilian demon was going to make any brash moves, it would be in the next few seconds. Outwardly, she groaned. To win the race, she would press onward as quickly as she could, she still had some extra juice left in her booster. To keep her life, she may have to go back to dogfighting one-oh-one, which was to keep the enemy in your crosshairs. Not the other way around.

If she went for race victory and speed alone, it'd be the other way around and she'd be rendered ionized. A lot of good she'd do for the wraith's then.

She released her grips on the accelerator, and in a split second reversed the orientation of her thrusters. This would confuse targeting systems for certain. The blonde on the bike who had been propelling forward at unimaginable speeds quickly reversed to a full throttle backwards, her body pressed against the slope of her swoop. A single arm, the same arm that had yielded some minor damage earlier, jut out once more as she whipped past the Nikto. A haphazard attempt to try and slice at him once more, but more importantly, triage him in the ionic targeting. She yanked her arm, and by extension, the razors, back into her ride. The bike edged backwards, decreasing in speed ever so slightly as she reached for her own blaster strapped against her person; levelling it to the side toward the Twi'lek's weaponry, while still keeping in time to the Nikto. If they were working together, the precision necessary to just lock on Loske would be risky. The payout may not be worth it if this Nikto fellow went down with the cause.

"This isn't a plus one kind of party, bud." Target acquired, a stream of plasma belched from the barrel of her weapon and to the cannon itself. Three more from her blaster rang out, connection indicated by small blossoms of fire against the base of the disruptor. And one more, for good luck, against the thigh of the Twi'lek as a fair warning. And another at its engine -- all in a matter of seconds.

Up ahead, the mouth of the track was beginning to light up with the beauty of the skies above, and the dim roar of the crowds could be heard.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Agraush was not having a very good day.

His moment of triumph had been postponed, and Agraush had never been the type to enjoy being blue balled. A thunderous roar of frustration and rage rumbled out from his throat - its volume and sheer power magnified tenfold courtesy of the force. Unfortunately, all that roar managed to do was slow down his speeder, making it far easier for the blonde to draw her speeder close enough that his hired help would be of no use.

The Twi'lek readied his weapon, and Agraush waved him away. The blaster bolt that slammed into the Twi'lek's upper thigh finished the job, his speeder careened sharply to the right as he reflexively grasped at the wound, and the explosion that followed made Agraush's teeth vibrate.

The woman's strike narrowly missed Agraush. He jerked his speeder violently to the right, just barely missing a food van-speeder-thing that was floating several meters above the ground. He quickly righted himself, his scaled fingers pawing at the lightsaber hidden within his jacket.

"Last chance to pull over schutta!" Agraush roared as he twisted about the track wildly in maneuvers that would have seemed terribly dangerous and amateur to the average speeder. Yet somehow he seemed to pull his swoop in just before it collided with anything of note, his reflexes unnatural and honed after years of training. Bright light filled his vision as the swoop sailed out into the open; the roar of the crowd was nearly deafening.

A snap-hiss momentarily drowned out the cacophony of noise. Agraush raised his crimson blade high overhead, his intentions to cleave the woman's swoop in two quite clear.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske was still dangerously close to the Nikto when she had to veer away to avoid some of the obstacles that had been placed on the track. It was like the race course was unfinished, and instead of installing plasma walls as things along the road to avoid, the racemakers had simply found it suitable to have the swoop bikes follow loose lines through the underbelly of the city itself.

Threading through land squatters was one thing, and to divide your focus with not getting kicked off one's bike was another.

It felt like the two bikers catapulted from the part of the track that had been concealed, and into the brilliance of the daylight. Thank goodness her helmet had a visor! She had partially thought the brute would focus on racing again after they were exposed to the crowds, however it seemed he had other intentions. And when the glow stick evidenced, Loske's stomach clenched. The last time she'd been face to face with a Sith was on Karfeddion. She'd passed out.

He was giving her an out, the opportunity to yield and pass up the glory of victory. If anything, that egged her competitive spirit on even deeper. She'd come here to win this race, not be bullied out of the title.

With a sharp veer, she pulled her speeder away from the lightsabre wielding alien, putting distance between them and levelling her blaster to aim at his engines. Maybe he'd deflect, it maybe not, but she needed the space to think about another attack option without getting herself in too close.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Cedric's curiosity quickly bled away to concern as the racers came speeding out from the undercity. He sat cross legged on the floor, his eyes squeezed shut as he envisioned the events that were transpiring through an ethereal lens. He had come here to find Agraush and bring the rogue Sith to justice, and in doing so find the hiding place of the Nikto's master. There were a number of Sith that did not give their loyalties to the Sith Empire, and they all tended to know one another in Cedric's experience. Given Agraush's prior activities, he seemed a likely source for Cedric's quarry.

Unfortunately it seemed Agraush was keen on living up to the Sith reputation. Cedric watched with growing concern as the brute brandished his lightsaber, and found himself opening his eyes to watch the proceedings normally. The other Force Sensitive was causing him some trouble, or so it seemed. Her presence made Cedric's brow furrow with worry: the Force had an agenda, and the meeting of three force users in one random location was likely not random happenstance.

He mumbled a curse as he rose from his feet, and went off toward the speeder he'd parked outside. It would be irresponsible not to interefere now.



Meanwhile, Agraush was busying himself with trying to saw Loske's swoop in half. He roared a string of bloody curses at the woman as he jerked away, his blade cleaving through naught but the rushing air. The crowds around them on roared with him - they were drawing close to the end of the race, and everyone enjoyed a good duel to the death at impossible speeds.

Agraush drew upon their excitement; he felt the fires of his passion engulf his very being as he drank in the crowd's reverie. A wicked smile found its way onto his scaly face, "They've all come to watch you die girl!" He snarled as the blonde fired her blaster once more.

The Nikto deflected the blast with ease, sending the bolt of energy careening into one of the unlucky swoops trailing behind the two of them. The vessel slowed, but it was not halted.

Slowly, Agraush began to stand. He planted his boots firmly on the seat of the swoop. This was a trick he'd practiced for decades - it was the ultimate crowd pleaser. Somehow, his swoop moved as if he were still piloting it. Most thought it was simple luck, Agraush knew it to be his own mastery over the force.

Bellowing with triumphant laughter, Agraush extended a clawed finger. Webs of bright blue lightning sparked from his fingertips, sailing wildly toward the blonde in a net of crackling electricity.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

She swallowed heavily when her bolt was deflected backwards with casual disregard. Space wizards, good or otherwise, had an unfair advantage...but at least she'd earned some distance. Putting her focus forward, she re-holstered her blaster (evidently a useless tool). There were a few more klicks left in the race, all she had to do was make it. Maybe this guy would chill and they could shake hands after they crossed the finish line.

The kiffar clone snorted at her own optimism.

From her peripherals, she could see his silhouette rising to stand on the bike, and heard the rise of enthusiasm from the crowds. The energy was palpable. So palpable, that a faint glimmer sparkled at the scaly fingertips of her opponent, and she realized all too late what that meant. She'd contended with Sith Lightning before (False. An injected memory from her paternal donor of Electric Judgement training). Reflexes kicked in, and she leaned aggressively to the left, tilting her bike with her. The swoop's belly faced toward the nikto while its rider was now parallel with the ground, her shoulder hovering just inches above the track. There was a deafening cackle of energy and electricity as the crystal tendrils spiralled around the bike and connected with the metallic body. Around her, enhancements popped and squealed into blossoms of fire, short circuiting to no avail. Her HUD indicated a loss of both boosters and her central repulsor. Then she lost her HUD into an explosion of fibres and smoke. She didn't wince or turn away -- her helm protected her from the spray of debris; softly tinking off the visor and overhand. At the same time, the electricity frantically sought an exit from the conductive metals, extra weaves of the lightning curled into her legs and coursed through her veins. The burning feeling was sensational, searing through her body like hot anger threatening to boil the blood pumping through her veins. Adrenaline assisted in dulling the situation from being overwhelming, but the existence of the intensity was not nullified. The anguish warranted a cry out of pain, and she clenched her teeth as liquid threatened to obscure her vision.

Turns out distance wasn't her friend either.

With a kick of her heel, she grunted through the pain, allowing the electricity to run its due course through her veins as tears stung her eyes and her muscles agonized at the absorption. The bike, still parallel to the track, reversed the repulsors to what would have been straight up. At the angle she was riding, they were actually expelling energy to the dramatic left, which pushed her bike incredibly quickly to the right. Toward the nikto's bike.

On collision, bike belly to the side of the nikto's, the acrobatic training imbued to her system of Teräs Käsi took over. She vaulted over the side of her bike, legs out first to collide and connect with the standing, hopefully imbalanced, alien to knock him from his course. Gratefully, his handlebars were without owner, and she gripped those to steady her vaulted kick.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

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Agraush cackled with wicked glee as the tendrils of lightning crashed over the blonde's speeder. He watched the swoop twist and turn to such a degree that it seemed obvious that it would crash. Content with his victory, Agraush held his arms out wide, and roared at the top of his lungs to meet the crowd's rising cacophony. This was what he lived for. The thrill of the race, the satisfaction of the kill, the adulation of those lesser than himself - there was nothing more euphoric.

So drawn up was he in his victory that Agraush did not notice the human's swoop veering toward his own. He felt a prickle of danger within the force, and turned only to late to see the blonde's vehicle careening toward his own. The Nikto panicked, and he swung his blade wildly at the woman as her vessel collided with his own. The crimson blade sliced through open air and nothing more, and a swift kick to Agraush's ribs kept him from reorienting for another assault.

The air left his lungs as he was sent flying from his swoop. Realizing that this would very likely kill him, the rogue Sith's efforts turned from offense to survival. He called upon the Force to form a protective barrier around his form, though it did little but save him from instant death at impact. Pain was all he knew as his body crashed limply along the race way, tumbling this way and that for several meters before finally coming to a stop.

Great gashes marred his limbs, and sickly sweet crimson spilled freely from those wounds. He ignored them as he stumbled to his feet on broken legs. A mortal man would have been dead, but Agraush's outright outrage at being denied his moment of triumph just when it was in his grasp forced him to stand. Snarling, the alien trudged on toward the finish line, his crimson blade crackling and spitting sparks as he went. The weapon, much like himself, had been rather severely damaged in the crash.

Nothing stood in Loske's way now. The finish line lay just ahead, and a lone figure draped in dark robes stood just a few meters from it. That figure watched the blonde intently. It seemed she was capable of dealing with even a Sith all on her own - the Force had indeed brought him here for reasons beyond the hunt.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Playing in the stadium ​

Nothing stood in her way.

What a relief.

There were minutiae details that required adjustments to the bike, mostly her getting situated. This one was a little bigger than her swoop, which was now discarded on the track in a smouldering heap of metal and fire, but she fumbled through it. She pressed it forward, her body in more of a slumped position than a purposeful press forward. Her entire body was in agony, her muscles and skin were crawling with heat and fire.

The crowds reacted with a roar when she crossed the finish line, and the lights and horns blared out throughout the stadium. The emotions in the seats were mixed, some were furious that their bets had been foiled by a late entrance, others were revelling at the turn of events and satisfied with the level of entertainment.

Beneath her helm, the pilot’s head was pounding with pain and fatigue, unable to discern the emotions of the crowd and honestly, not really caring at this point. She turned the ignition off and slid down from the seat as race attendants rushed to her bike, and to the other incoming riders. Spirals of confetti twisted through the air and onto the ground in an explosion of mixed hues, emphasizing the celebration. Wanting to relieve all the pressure on her body, and give the static feeling of the ethereal attack on her body an exit point, she removed her helmet and dropped it to the ground, also shimmying out of her jacket while she felt sparks dancing along her skin like pinpricks. Electrocution sucked.

The figure in the cloak seemed somewhat authoritative, and within earshot. She rested a hand against the bike to steady herself, giving a slow shake of her head in [member="Cedric Grayson"]'s direction. Only one type of person walked around in robes in a city. A space wizard.

“Please tell me you’re here to arrest that psychopath.”

 

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"In a sense," Cedric responded, his brow furrowing as he beheld the scene. He had no doubt in his mind that the winner of the race was the force sensitive he'd touched upon. Skill certainly had a part to play, but overcoming a Sith Lord was something even the greatest soldiers rarely succeeded in doing. This close, he felt nothing but good intentions from the girl; it brought Cedric a bit of relief. The Bogan was waxing, and he had come across far too many corrupted young minds in his travels.

Young being the relative term. Cedric was only thirty in years, but conflict had a way of aging the spirit long before the flesh.

"I'm surprised you dealt with him so effectively. Not many Jedi can say they've beaten a Sith Lord, it's relatively unheard of for an untrained force sensitive to do so." Cedric mused as he walked with purpose toward the stumbling Nikto. Agraush had only managed to make it about halfway on his walk. The crowds gave the force user a wide berth - tales of the Sith's powers were commonplace in this side of the galaxy.

The Jedi Master came to a halt several paces away from the Nikto. The two force users met one another's eyes.

"Step aside." Agraush demanded with surprising authority to his voice despite his wounds. The Nikto brandished his weapon, the crimson blade carving bloody arcs through the air in a display of skill.

A quiet sigh escaped Cedric's lips, "You're too wounded to fight. Seems that girl was too much for you," there was a hint of mockery to Cedric's words, "I've come to speak with you Agraush. I'd prefer you surrender so we can get those wounds treated."

The Nikto responded by roaring a battle cry and charging Cedric. The Jedi dodged Agraush's slow swing with ease, ducking beneath a strike that was intended to cleave him from shoulder to hip. He pressed his hand to the alien's skull and reached into the depths of its mind. Within, he saw only chaos and disharmony; it was an easy thing to quiet his consciousness.

One moment Agraush charged, the next he was slumping over and collapsing into the dirt. Cedric nudged him with the tip of his boot as the crowd continued to drone on cheering for the blonde.

"We're going to have a very long talk Agraush," Cedric muttered as he bent down to swing the unconscious brute over his shoulder.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

The Jedi’s casual comment about her affinity to The Force left her in a state of discombobulation. My what? Her brow knotted, and light eyes trailed the trajectory of the cloaked figure while a cluster of bodies jittered in front of her. A ribbon dropped around her neck and they gestured to the podium where two other racers were taking their places on the stacks, and she tied her jacket around her hips.

“Miss Sato!” There were a handful of race officials and one or two reporters that ran to the end of the track where the rest of the racers were now arriving and their times were joining Loske’s on the scoreboard. There were a few names on the board without times, indicating their race was incomplete, and their rankings would not be added to the scoreboard.

“This is your third triumph! You’re becoming a tricity victor between Ahto, Tatooine and now Metallos!”

She blushed, the victories were true - but expected. Remember - built for this.

“What’s your secret, those were some pretty wicked moves!”

“Are you okay? You were electrocuted!”

It was then that she noticed the medic on standby for the first time, dutifully waiting until called all dressed in white.She blinked a few times, vacating the conversation to the recesses of her mind. Her secret? Eat vegetables and be a clone that was born from a tube and cultivated to drive and destroy. The question went unanswered when the booming noise of the nikto, challenging the Jedi. There was a fell swoop of a crimson blade, a dodge, and then what one could only presume as extreme mind control.

Excuse me?!

Her mouth gaped at the demonstration, while questions still passed by her. She was being a terrible sport for the media, though she could feel herself mouthing responses passively while transfixed on the interaction. They were finding little to communicate with, and followed her gaze to the altercation happening a few meters away.

“Get your cameras pointed over there! What a day!” There was an excited murmur from media,

Frustration seeded in her mind and she shook her head, pursing her lips together tautly when she felt a knock at the back of her legs.

You could have put on more of a show! Frank exasperated from hip-level. As kind a comment as the attitude-filled astromech would provide. Loske gave a reassuring pat to the top of his head, although the movement reverberated more pulses of pain up her arm.

“Excuse me,” Loske, AKA Blue, pardoned herself from the reporters who turned to let her pass as she crossed to the scene between the Force users. “You’re waiting until now to do that? Couldn’t stop the super Sith guy five minutes ago?”

He looked so helpless now, slumped over [member="Cedric Grayson"]’s broad shoulders, when a handful of moments ago he’d been ready to cleave her in half and was shooting electric currents from his palms! It was kind of disorienting, the turn of events.

It was like all the synapsis were firing, things were connecting. Coincidence wasn’t a factor.
There was a Jedi here. Her brother was a Jedi. She’d heard a voice in her head that was not via a known channel, her brother and she could read each other’s thoughts and experiences (untethered and totally unregulated). There was a Sith. This dude was talking about The Force -- did he know about her nausea? Her posturing was unintentional, but she looked like she was blocking him what with her arms crossed and feet shoulder width apart.

“Also, what did you mean Force Sensitive. Was that you in my head?”

 

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There were a number of options presented to Cedric. He could be wholly honest and give her the truth. He could be cryptic to maintain that mysterious Jedi mystique, whilst also amusing himself in the process. He could also just force the girl out of the way and go on with his mission.

Half a second of thought confirmed his decision.

"I didn't want to interfere with your race," he stated honestly. "Once he started shooting people, I headed off to stop him. Just so happens that the standard speeder is nowhere near as fast as these swoops," Cedric waved his free hand all around. "I'd say you took care of the matter rather handily without me, anyway." He paused, eyes darting about as he took in the crowd staring at the two of them.

Now was certainly not the time for publicity. The Sith he hunted would surely hear of this now that all of Metallos was aware. Cedric forced the burgeoning annoyance down; his cover was already blown, there was no reason to run off now.

"That was me, yes," he admitted, a slight hint of guilt to his voice. "I thought you were a Jedi, I apologize. It's not very polite to invade the minds of the unaware," he chewed on the side of his lip as he spoke. This was something a major slip up for Cedric - he would have to be far more careful in the future.

"I'm surprised you wouldn't know if it though," he added, jostling the unconscious Nikto about on his shoulders to find some semblance of comfortability. "The empyrean whirls about you like a tempest," he paused, nodding his head toward the dirtection of the medics. "Either way, I have to get our friend here stabilized. Walk and talk with me."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

As [member="Cedric Grayson"] produced his explanation, Loske evidenced a quirked brow in response. With the facts provided, the Jury’s decision remained resolved through all her experiences to-date. Jedi were karked.

“The unaware.” She repeated coolly, giving a slight shake of her head. “Let’s not do it again— makes me queasy.”

Frank, by Loske’s side, rocked his metallic hull in an I-told-you-so triumphant sway.

Where she chocked it up to her survival, he suggested it was merely a situation well handled. Her veins were burnt, and she was down a modified swoop bike - a champion vehicle that she’d now have to replace. Although, perhaps the timing was suitable what with the Wraith’s starting to mobilize more frequently. Less time for gallivanting about the galaxy for faux glory.

If it were possible, her brow would have risen beyond her hairline when he explained something with the word “empyrean”. Was that why Abel had wanted her to visit the temple on Sullust? And Master Karr had been so interested in her relationships, kinder and blood?

When he suggested she walk with him, our enduringly trusting heroine acquiesced with a shrug, and a definite point to the alien.

“Fine, but he is not a friend.”

For all she knew, they were employs of each other, and she was walking into some sort of a Force trap.

“Maybe they’ll give me some Bacta patches for these burns..” she commented, twisting her forearms to look at the seared damage. Not too bad. The brunt had been taken up her legs. “I’ll walk only if you use more of the word tempest.” She gave a wary side eye toward the corpse over the stranger’s shoulder, a grimace crossing her otherwise neutral expression.

“Why are you so interested in this deviant?”

 

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"Yes, it tends to be a bit unpleasant for the untrained," Cedric replied apologetically. He was still a bit ashamed with himself that he had not identified the woman properly. Using his abilities so freely was irresponsible, a lesson taught to even the youngest of padawans. To forget it was to forget his very basis of training, and that was a road that would surely lead to damnation.

The Jedi gave the little astromech at her side a curious look, but said nothing. It reminded him of the droid that had been by his side during his earliest days of training. B2-XT had been a stalwart companion, so stalwart in fact that the little droid had shown little fear when challenging a legion of imperial soldiers. The memory was tinged with bitter loss, as B2-XT had swiftly been gunned down after making his courageous stand. Cedric missed that little droid.

"I don't think he'd make a very good friend for anyone," Cedric replied as he smacked the Nikto's back. Agraush groaned in reply. "I can probably heal those burns if you like." He added as he tangentially examined her wounds, "It wouldn't take too much effort, I expect. They don't look particularly extensive."

With a grunt, Cedric dropped the Nikto not-too-gently onto one of the medical gurneys. He exchanged quick words with one of the medics, exchanged a credit chip with a particularly large denomination, and turned back to face the woman. "This deviant is Lord Agraush, a Sith that threw his lot in with a few very dangerous individuals. He and his constituents helped to murder my homeworld: I'm here to bring him to justice and find out where the rest of his companions are hiding."

He paused, and only because she'd asked, "Tempest." He added plainly.

[member="Loske Matson"]